


Doctoring the Results

by lodessa



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-14
Updated: 2008-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-10 01:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lodessa/pseuds/lodessa





	Doctoring the Results

Things were going really well for Donna Noble. First mum had started being strangely supportive, and then out of the blue she'd gotten a job offer from some special government agency called UNIT. The pay was fantastic, as were the benefits, and she'd already been offered the opportunity to travel, and Donna had always wanted to travel. Most of the people at UNIT were stiff military types, so Donna was surprised to meet her commanding officer for the expedition to Cuba and find her to be young, beautiful, and female. She'd assumed Doctor M. Jones would be some heavyset man in his fifties, especially as she'd heard some of the other girls talking about Doctor Jones with a certain amount of awe. This place, so like many, was a complete boys club. That was sort of the downside to the place, but it was a fairly standard one. Doctor Martha Jones was striking and fresh faced, but Donna didn't make the mistake of assuming that meant she would be less demanding and stern. This was a hard place, clawing your way up the ranks would take nerves of steel. And you could see it, under the soft skin and shiny hair, there was something hard about Martha Jones, strong but cruel, like scar tissue.

It was only a few days before their departure when she overhead Doctor Jones arguing with her commanding officer. She'd been on her way back from the copier, and couldn't help hearing. This happened a lot working the kind of jobs she did, but in this case it turned out they were talking about her. The boss didn't want Doctor Jones taking Donna to Cuba, at least not without a squad of guards. She heard something about a machine, but then Susie from personnel found her and started gabbing about an office lottery and she missed the rest of the conversation.

Evidentially, Doctor Martha Jones had more pull than appeared at first glance. They departed for Cuba on schedule, alone.

It wasn't a private plane, but they did fly first class. Doctor Jones let Donna have the window seat with a smile, and seemed like she wanted to say something but she didn't. Donna tried to guess what it was that hard hardened her inside. She was wearing an engagement ring, so it probably wasn't a lost love or a heartbreak, but one never could be sure. Something told her not to count heartbreak out.

"Donna, did you know that I requested you especially for this trip." Doctor Jones was looking at her, over the paperwork in her lap.

"I wasn't aware, no." Donna half lied; she hadn't officially been told.

"Don't you want to know why?" The younger woman seemed dissatisfied with her answer, as if she had expected something else.

"Of course I do. I'm not sure how I even got a job with UNIT, especially as I didn't even apply, and I'd sure like to know why you passed over a bunch of people with skills and seniority in favor of me, and I'd really love to know what it is exactly that UNIT actually as no one has told me during the month I've been working here. There are a lot of things about this job I want to know, but I've worked enough places to know that the higher ups like quiet mousy workers who do their jobs and don't ask questions, and I'd like to keep this job, thank you very much."

Then she laughed, Doctor Martha Jones, and again she looked like she was about to say something but stopped herself.

"You probably won't believe this, but I'm going answer all those questions. You've just got to give me the time," she placed her hand on Donna's and Donna felt like there was precedent for her to trust on, but knew there wasn't.

So she scoffed at the gesture, rolling her eyes. Doctor Jones smiled.

"And I suppose that whatever this trip is about, that's also a secret to be revealed in good time?"

"Parts of it, but I can fill in a little. It's going to sound strange though."

"Try me, darling, I've read the book."

"Well to begin with, you're right. You didn't apply to UNIT. UNIT targeted you. I can't tell you too much, but UNIT knows things about you that you don't know yourself, and they want to exploit them, like a rain forest or third world country with valuable raw natural resources. To follow the metaphor, well they are just about ready to start knocking down trees or strip mining, and this job is just a cover up to get you in the door. So this mission, it's the equivalent of a move by the Environmental Protection Agency. I made up a pretext to get you out of their reach in order to protect you, and I know that it sounds ridiculous for me to risk my job and life for someone I don't even know, but Let's just say I have my reasons."

This woman was almost certainly completely nutters. She was flying across the ocean with a mad woman. Donna took a deep breath and decided to do what she'd done with almost every problem boss she'd encountered in life. She played along with the delusion.

"So," she began, "let's say I believe you..." It never paid to seem too easily won over, these kind of people were used to having their judgement questioned.

"I understand it's a big leap of faith," the other woman acknowledged, "And I'm sure if you took it you'd want to know what I was planning on doing, other than hiding out in a country unlikely to cooperate with the enemy. Sadly my answer is probably going to sound worse than everything I've said so far."

"Then let's not bother. Why don't you just tell me what you need from me." Donna was beginning to suspect that this was a scare tactic intended to manipulate her as opposed to actual lunacy.

"When we get to Cuba, I'm going to need to perform a fairly complex surgery on you."

"Well just wait a minute, sweetheart..." Donna interrupted, backing away from the other woman as far as the confines of their plane would allow.

"I'm a very good doctor, Donna. That's a large part of why UNIT recruited me, but I don't need you to believe that. I just need you to think for a minute. If I'd wanted to I could have said nothing and drugged your drink. If I meant you any ill, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I'm not saying there aren't risks, but if we don't do this you will be hunted by UNIT for the rest of your life and this, this will make it so you can defend yourself. So make your choice: give up and become their slave or worse, run for your life, or take a chance and maybe hope to take your life back."

"What about those answers you promised me?" Donna said, avoiding the subject at hand. She was splitting the moment the plane landed.

"Once I perform the surgery, they will all be answered."

"You know, your sales pitch is terrible." Donna replied.

"Which is why I was supposed to be the one persuading you." Donna turned around to find a handsome American leaning on the cockpit door, "Captain Jack Harkness," he smiled with a wink. He oozed charm.

"Oy, I think I might have actually enjoyed that, precious."

~

She opened her eyes into the bright light of the operating room. Ooh clever, Martha had saved some DNA samples and Jack's lab had worked to recreate them synthetically. That must have been before. And, oh and. Her hearts beat against her chest... hearts. A rush of information as she registered the attention to every detail. She was a masterpiece, a masterpiece by Doctor Martha Jones. Martha with her sharp angles and gentle grace.

"How do you feel, timelady?"

Timelady, Jenny, Gallifrey. She remembered it all.

"Martha Jones you are brilliant. Well, maybe not as brilliant as me, but more so than him obviously." There was no way that who He was could be mistaken. Heartbreak, there was a reason she'd considered it when she didn't know why. The human instinct. The timelord intellect. It was a amazing; she was amazing. Holy God, she knew what UNIT had intended, plugging her into a machine like an invalid, like something wrong, and pumping her like a power plant for brain power. Things connected so effortlessly now. And she felt, she understood.

Martha didn't look like a victor. Perhaps the same old longing? No. Hands bare of an engagement ring.

"Tom?" she asked.

"He's safe. Jack sent him back to the 20s with my family. Apparently he knew all along this would happen. He ran into them back then, messed up timeline and all. UNIT can't touch them."

Donna opened her arms and Martha rested her head against her, shaking but never crying. Never crying.

"Oh you poor dear."

Martha smiled sadly, "At least no one died this time."

"UNIT has to be stopped." The thought formed so fast it was out of her lips before she noticed. It mingled with so many others that yesterday she wouldn't have known the number (it was measured in quilaxis).

"I know. Defender of the Earth and all."

And she was. Defender of the Earth. Brilliant Doctor. But she was more. She was more than stern. She was more than beautiful and caring. She remembered meeting Martha the first time. She remembered their parting. She connected new dots, made new discoveries, felt new and different. She knows how he felt, the excitement, the joy, the disconnect. He was only half of a man, too alien, too timeless and full of time. He didn't even know.

He didn't know. What would he do? What would she do if she were him? Except she wasn't so that was a useless frame of reference. Of course. Remove the human variables and shift to account for gender. Oh dear, that wouldn't do at all.

Did he still have that phone?

"I estimate we might have an hour." Martha added helpfully.

"Call him," the Doctor-Donna told her, "Tell him what we've done."

"But..."

"I'm ready for him."

The guilt would work to their advantage; he'd be ashamed and disappointed in himself that Martha had succeeded where he'd failed. He'd failed her. He'd failed them both and he'd failed Earth, and failing Earth was his least favorite of all vices.

The creaking of the TARDIS. Martha waiting. The Doctor-Donna grabbed her hand. She was hers now.

It was almost embarrassing how easily she outshone him. He wouldn't be back in this decade. He wouldn't appear between them. He wouldn't dare. For good measure she leaned in a whispered in his ear, whispered the truth about the things he could but wouldn't do, for humanity and for the galaxy... for space and time. She whispered long forgotten words and his eyes widened. His breath paused and he retreated like a naughty schoolboy.

She smiled at Martha and saw the shift in the return look. Hers. Brilliant and caring and all hers. Like this time, this place. Maybe someday she'd tell her how mistaken he'd been about himself when he hadn't realized this. Maybe not.

Either way it was bloody brilliant.

It was with great effort that she brought herself back to the moment. The long days and steaming nights ahead were not yet here. Martha didn't know yet, couldn't know. It would take her a while to decide, though Donna calculated the probability at 99.8%. People could surprise you though. Martha had surprised all of them before, more than once. She wouldn't make his mistake, wouldn't trivialize.

Kisses and caresses were not everything, but that didn't make them irrelevant. So she'd wait, but not too long, not long enough to let things fester, not long enough to tear three hearts apart. She was the Doctor-Donna, all the brilliance and all the compassion. She'd know. She'd know when the time was right.

It would take more than one lifetime to love Martha Jones properly. So she'd need to get working on that.

"Donna?" A gentle hand on her shoulder, "I thought you wanted to deal with UNIT."

It was a good one of them was capable of linearity. She was still getting used to this brain but it seemed sort of jumbled as far as organization went.

"I think we'd better take the helm. Crushing one pest only encourages another."

"I think you just want to measure sizes with Jack." Martha quipped.

"Well don't you want to?"

They laughed. It was a giddy feeling this freedom and strength.


End file.
